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antinousletmehit · 4 months ago

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˚₊‧꒰ა Chapter 15 ໒꒱ ‧₊˚

⋆˚࿔ Book 2 𝜗𝜚˚⋆

୨୧┇pairing: Telemachus x reader

୨୧┇please don’t kill me for this chapter…

────୨ৎ──── ────୨ৎ──── ───

After days of tireless work, the crew stood back and admired their finished ships. Though patched with a mix of new wood and salvaged fragments from the wreckage, the vessels were sturdy enough to sail once more. Sweat glistened on their brows, but a sense of accomplishment hung in the air. Telemachus walked along the shore, inspecting the craftsmanship of each ship. He ran his hand over the freshly hammered nails and tightly secured ropes, nodding in satisfaction. “It’ll hold,” he said, loud enough for the crew to hear. “You’ve all done well.”

Florus wiped his hands on his tunic, smiling faintly. “Demeter willing, they’ll get us to Skiaphos.”

Cassander, leaning on a newly polished oar, smirked. “And let’s hope the women there are worth all this trouble.”

Eurymachus chuckled. “They’d better be. I didn’t get splinters in my hands for nothing.”

Druses rolled his eyes, tightening the final knot on the sails. “The only thing waiting for us in Skiaphos is a fight. Maybe focus on that instead of your fantasies.”

Antinous, who had been unusually quiet, stood apart from the group, his sharp eyes fixed on the horizon. “The sooner we set sail, the sooner we can get to her.”

Pisistratus approached, his arms crossed. “We’ll need to pace ourselves. The ships are rebuilt, but they’re not indestructible. Let’s not let desperation sink us before we even reach the enemy.”

Telemachus turned to the crew. “Load up the supplies. We set sail at dawn.”

As the sun rose the next morning, the crew pushed the ships into the water, the waves lapping eagerly at the hulls. They climbed aboard, each man taking his position. Oars hit the water in unison, the sails unfurling to catch the wind. Telemachus stood at the helm, his gaze unwavering as the ships cut through the waves. “Hold steady,” he commanded.

Eurymachus and Cassander took to rowing with exaggerated enthusiasm, teasing each other about who could row faster. “You row like my grandmother!” Cassander laughed.

“At least my grandmother doesn’t need two hands to lift a jug of wine,” Eurymachus shot back.

Antinous scowled at them. “Would you two shut up? Save your energy for something useful.”

Druses sat near the mast, sharpening his blade. “If they’re not going to shut up, maybe I’ll throw them overboard. That’ll quiet them down.”

Pisistratus sighed, leaning against the railing. “And to think, we still have days of this ahead of us.”

Florus, standing near the bow, looked out at the open sea. “At least the ships are holding steady. That’s a good sign.” Telemachus tightened his grip on the wheel, his mind on y/n and Adonis. The crew’s banter faded into the background as the ships sailed onward, each man knowing the battles ahead would be far more grueling than anything they had faced thus far.

——

Y/n sat on the edge of the bed, cradling Adonis, her mind drifting back to distant memories of freedom. Her longing expression didn’t escape Raphael as he entered the room. His eyes, sharp and unrelenting, bore into her. “Why do you always look so far away?” Raphael asked, his voice calm but laced with an underlying menace.

She flinched but didn’t respond. Her silence only stoked his frustration. He strode toward her, taking Adonis from her arms and placing him gently into his crib. Then, he turned back to her, his demeanor growing darker. “You belong to me,” he whispered, grabbing her wrist and pulling her to her feet. “Yet you sit here, dreaming of someone else, don’t you?”

She shook her head quickly, her voice trembling. “I wasn’t—”

“Don’t lie to me,” Raphael cut her off, his nails digging into her arm as he pulled her closer. Her eyes widened as he dragged her to a chair and forced her to sit. From a drawer, he retrieved a small heated iron nail with a sharp tip. The sight of it made her heart race.

“W-What are you doing?” she stammered, struggling against his hold.

He didn’t answer immediately, instead pinning her arm to the table. His lips curled into a cruel smile. “If you’re so set on forgetting who you belong to, then I’ll make sure you never forget again.” Before she could protest, Raphael’s nails pressed against the tender skin of her forearm. With sharp, deliberate motions, he began carving his name into her flesh. She screamed in pain, tears streaming down her face as he worked methodically.

“Ra-pha-el,” he spelled out coldly, his voice devoid of sympathy as he carved the letters. Then, next to his name, he etched a small heart, the symbol mocking her pain. When he was finished, he leaned back, admiring his work. Blood welled up from the marks, but he didn’t seem to care. He grabbed a cloth and wiped her arm clean, the red letters of his name stark against her skin.

“There,” he said, his voice soft but menacing. “Now you’ll never forget. You’re mine, my little birdie, and no one else’s.” She sat trembling, cradling her injured arm. The sting of the wound was nothing compared to the deep ache in her chest. Her tears fell silently as she dared not meet his gaze.

Raphael leaned down, pressing a kiss to her forehead. “You’ll understand one day,” he murmured, his tone almost tender. “This is love, y/n. You just need to learn it.” She sat frozen in the chair, her arm throbbing in pain as blood trickled from the fresh marks Raphael had carved into her skin. Her tears blurred her vision, but she refused to look at him as he returned with a bandage and a cloth soaked in warm water.

Raphael knelt beside her, his expression unnervingly soft now, a stark contrast to the cold brutality he’d just displayed. “Shh, my little birdie,” he cooed, gently taking her arm despite her flinch. “You’re shaking. Let me take care of you. I didn’t mean to scare you.” Sheturned her head away, biting her trembling lip to hold back a sob.

He dabbed at her wound with the warm cloth, cleaning the blood away with surprising tenderness. “Oh, you poor thing,” he murmured, pressing a soft kiss to her wrist just below the fresh marks. “My birdie’s got a boo-boo. But don’t worry, I’ll make it all better.” His babyish tone only made her stomach churn. She wanted to pull her arm away, but the weight of his grip and the fear in her heart kept her still.

“There, there,” Raphael crooned as he wrapped the bandage carefully around her arm. His fingers were gentle, but she could feel the possessiveness in his every touch. “You’re so brave, y/n. See? All better now.”

He tied off the bandage and leaned down, pressing his lips to the top of the dressing with a lingering kiss. “See how much I care for you? I’d never let anyone hurt you, my little birdie.”

She finally found her voice, though it was weak and shaky. “You… you’re the one who hurt me,” she whispered, her tears spilling over again.

Raphael paused, tilting his head as if confused by her words. Then he cupped her cheek, brushing her tears away with his thumb. “Oh, don’t say it like that,” he said softly, his tone dripping with condescension. “Sometimes love hurts, y/n. But it’s only because I care so deeply for you. I just need you to understand.”

He pulled her into his arms, cradling her like she was fragile glass. She stiffened, but he ignored it, stroking her hair as if she hadn’t just been sobbing in pain moments before. “You’re mine, little birdie,” he murmured against her temple. “Forever. And I’ll take care of you, always.”

She stared blankly at the wall behind him, the weight of his words and the suffocating hold he had on her sinking deeper into her chest. All she could do was sit silently as he held her close, humming a soft, almost lullaby-like tune as if he hadn’t just marked her as his prisoner.

——

The crew finally docked on the shores of Skiaphos under the cover of night. The waves lapped softly against the hull as they carefully secured the ship. Telemachus motioned for everyone to keep quiet, his eyes scanning the darkened coastline for any signs of patrols. “Set up camp here for now,” Telemachus whispered, his voice low but commanding. “We can’t risk heading straight into the city without a plan.”

But Antinous, seething with impatience, was already pacing the sands. His fists clenched, and his jaw was tight with barely contained rage. “We don’t have time for plans!” he hissed. “Y/n is in that palace, suffering at the hands of that monster. Every second we wait—”

“Antinous,” Druses interrupted sharply, stepping in front of him. “Do you want to save your sister or get all of us killed before we even step foot inside the city?” Antinous glared at him, his breathing heavy, but before he could retort, the faint glimmer of the palace lights in the distance caught his eye. Without another word, he took off running toward them, his single minded determination blinding him to everything else.

“Antinous!” Telemachus hissed, his voice sharp but hushed. Pisistratus groaned in frustration and sprinted after him. Druses rolled his eyes, muttering a string of curses under his breath as he followed. By the time they caught up, Antinous was halfway up a rocky hill overlooking the palace, crouched low but clearly eyeing the structure like a predator sizing up its prey. Pisistratus grabbed his arm, yanking him back with more strength than Antinous anticipated.

“Are you insane?” Pisistratus hissed. “Do you want them to see us?”

“I’m not just going to sit around while she’s in there!” Antinous snarled, his voice barely a whisper but filled with venom.

Druses grabbed him by the other arm, his grip like iron. “We get it. You’re angry. You want blood. But if you storm in there now, you’ll only bring it on yourself, and on y/n.”

Antinous struggled against their hold, his chest heaving with frustration. “Let me go! I’ll take them all on myself if I have to!”

“Stop acting like a reckless fool!” Pisistratus snapped, dragging him back down the hill. “We need to set up camp, assess their defenses, and figure out a strategy. You charging in there now won’t save her, it’ll doom her.”

Antinous finally stopped struggling, though his body remained tense. His eyes burned with frustration and desperation as he allowed himself to be led back to the others. “You don’t understand,” he muttered under his breath. “She’s my sister. I should’ve protected her. I—”

“And you will,” Druses cut in, his voice surprisingly calm. “But not like this. We’ll get her back, Antinous. I swear it. But you need to trust us.” Antinous didn’t respond, his gaze fixed on the palace lights in the distance. He knew they were right, but that didn’t make it any easier to swallow. He clenched his fists, silently vowing that when the time came, Raphael would regret ever laying a hand on y/n.

——

The distant murmur of voices stirred the night air, faint but urgent. A servant girl, carrying a tray of fresh linens, paused in the shadowed halls of the palace, her ears pricking at the unfamiliar sounds. The low growls of argument, the shuffling of hurried feet. Her pulse quickened. She knew the city well—knew the way its streets whispered in the dark, the way unrest often started as little more than a ripple. And she recognized desperation when she heard it. Without a moment’s hesitation, she turned on her heel and rushed toward the inner chambers of the palace.

Raphael traced the swollen skin of y/n’s wrist with a lazy smile, his fingers ghosting over the fresh brand he had etched into her flesh only hours before. The skin was red and inflamed, the raw wound forming the letters of his name, accompanied by a small heart as if this were some kind of lovers’ engraving rather than a cruel claim of ownership. “My little birdie,” he murmured, his tone dripping with saccharine adoration as he lifted her bound hands to his lips, pressing a slow kiss to the fresh wound. “Now everyone will know you belong to me.”

Pandora, silent and hollow eyed, only flinched slightly at the contact. She had learned not to resist, at least not outwardly. Not when Adonis was still in his grasp. He reveled in the moment, savoring his work. But then—

A knock. Sharp. Urgent.

Raphael’s expression darkened instantly. With an irritated sigh, he released her hands, letting them drop to her lap. “Wait here,” he ordered, though they both knew she had no choice. He strode to the door, throwing it open with impatience, and was immediately met with the sight of the wide eyed servant girl. She bowed hastily, her breath coming in short gasps from running.

“My lord,” she whispered, her voice barely containing the tremble of fear. “Strange men have been spotted near the palace. They were arguing… speaking in hushed tones about the queen.” Raphael’s expression darkened further, the warmth in his eyes turning to ice. A muscle in his jaw ticked.

Y/n

So they had finally come.

With a slow inhale, he steadied himself. He had known this day would come, Telemachus was stubborn, predictable, and utterly obsessed with getting y/n back. But this was too soon. He had expected more delays, more obstacles keeping them apart.

No matter.

He glanced back into the room, his gaze settling on y/n. She was looking down, her face unreadable, her fingers twitching slightly against the fabric of her gown. Had she heard? Of course, she had. “Stay,” he murmured, softer this time, though it was no less a command. He turned back to the servant. “Go. Inform the guards. I want eyes on the entire perimeter.”

The girl nodded and hurried off. Raphael exhaled slowly before making his way through the grand corridors of the palace, his mind already spinning through the possibilities of what was to come. If war was on the horizon, then he needed Skiaphos to be ready.

—

Raphael found Endymion in the eastern courtyard, sitting beneath the flickering light of the torches, a goblet of wine in hand. His older brother, ever the picture of effortless control, barely lifted his gaze as Raphael approached. “You’re out late,” Endymion murmured, swirling his wine before taking a slow sip. “Shouldn’t you be watching over your little queen?”

“She’s not going anywhere,” Raphael replied smoothly, though irritation laced his tone. “Not while I have her leashed.”

Endymion let out a quiet, unimpressed hum. “Charming.”

Raphael ignored the sarcasm and leaned against the stone railing, looking out over the quiet city. “We have uninvited guests,” he said at last.

That caught Endymion’s attention. He arched a brow. “Uninvited?”

Raphael smirked. “Telemachus and his men are here.”

Endymion set down his goblet. “And you’re sure?”

Raphael nodded. “A servant overheard them near the palace, whispering about y/n.” He tilted his head slightly, watching his brother’s reaction. “They’re here to take her back. Which means Ithaca is preparing for war.” Endymion was silent for a long moment, his sharp eyes calculating. Then he exhaled through his nose, rubbing his temple.

“I told you this would happen,” he muttered, almost to himself. “I told you stealing another man’s wife would bring war to our doorstep.”

Raphael chuckled darkly. “And I told you—I don’t care.”

Endymion stood slowly, his gaze hard. “And yet, you come to me now. Why?”

Raphael’s smirk didn’t fade, but his eyes sharpened. “Because we need to be ready. If Telemachus is here, he didn’t come alone. He’s not a fool, he knows we outnumber him in his current state. That means he’ll be gathering forces, looking for weak points.”

Endymion exhaled, shaking his head. “You’ve doomed us all, little brother.”

“Oh, come now,” Raphael mused, stepping closer. “You love war as much as I do.”

Endymion scoffed. “War I can win. Not this mess.” He ran a hand through his hair, thinking. “I’ll have the men prepare. We need scouts watching the city, and if Telemachus and his men try anything, we end it before it starts.”

“Now that’s more like it.” Raphael smirked. “See? I knew you’d come around.”

Endymion shot him a sharp look. “This isn’t a game, Raphael. Ithaca won’t stop. They’re not just fighting for land or pride. They’re fighting for her. That makes them more dangerous than you think.”

Raphael’s smirk wavered, if only for a second. Then he straightened. “Let them try,” he said coolly. “Y/n is mine now. And they’ll learn that the hard way.” Endymion shook his head, but the conversation was over. He turned on his heel, already barking orders to the guards stationed nearby. Raphael, satisfied, took a slow breath before making his way back to his chambers.

Back to y/n.

Back to the only thing worth fighting for.

@procrastination20 @jackiepackiee @barrythestrawberry041 @blessedbyahuntress

@f3r4lfr0gg3r @permanently-nothere @eyuunho @jackintheboxs-world @simpingmyassoff @sunshinewhosketches

@sugarlillycookie @kaguraaaa @doodle-with-rhy

@0anodite0 @cocosparkel @tati-the-fangirl

@dazedemery @tsmaruchan

@holywizardprincess @galaxygurlll @pjopinkk

@h0ne4bee @minteaspoon @zendoesstuff

@yuvany

#aphrodites gamble #epic the musical #epic the musical x reader #antinous #telemachus #telemachus x reader #epic telemachus #epic antinous #antinous x reader

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mallovamp · 5 months ago

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oh hey btw tt!rumor canonically has a sister

(upcoming redesign sneak peeks!)

speaking of terror trio SO!! heres an update

i have changed quite a bit regarding act storylines, timelines, character relationships and the characters themselves (esp. florus) and i'm probably gonna take the stuff that's on my au account, @terror-trio , and move it here as like "scrapped" stuff? although it's not really scrapped i'm kinda just changing the ideas already established

if ur actually interested in the au as of right now expect a lot of redesigning and delayed answering to asks because i just started remaking the intro comic yesterday ^^ i'm also probably gonna post some ttau stuff on tiktok first to hopefully get more people looking at it, so i might post new designs there before i do here!

as for the timelines, i have decided that act 1 will be used as a backstory of sorts — the au's present starts with the beginning of act 2 (which won't come until a LOT later but hey).

thank u guys sm 4 all the love my art has gotten, i'm looking forward 2 finally executing this au that's been in my head 4 so long and share it with u all!! <33

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persephoneprice · 2 months ago

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What’s Florus’s personality like

anon i hope you know my initial reaction was literally this meme

anyway. here’s my original (i think) florus friend headcanons post!

but essentially:

he grew up lonely and his only real friend was androcles anderson.

he’s a writer and documents everything in his journals. he has countless journals detailing anything he deemed important enough to write down. unfortunately, he deemed most things important.

because he grew up so overlooked, he really lost himself in the attention he got during the games. this led him to ignore sabyn which, of course, would haunt him for the rest of his life.

but it’s his meticulous journals and documents that detail the real history of panem after the second rebellion. unlike his grandmother, he tells history accurately and does not change it as a way to favor anyone.

but don’t get it twisted, hes never actually anything more than a bystander how writes things down. he doesn’t do or say anything to help. he sees everything and lets it happen how it happens.

this is my favorite thing i’ve ever written about florus. though, it’s a bit odd.

#asks #florus friend #thank you so much for letting me yap abt florus i didn’t realize how much i missed him!#got so excited to yap abt him

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felixravinstills · 9 months ago

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re: last one

hi abyssal! i'm back like a lying liar because that was not the last of me yapping about allegory of the cave. anyway, about this bit-

It will not remember that often times he was the man standing beside me at parties, unsure and searching for the right opening, or the slight nod he gave me as he left, having found an in to a conversation. I have never written down how much that nod means to me. I could never write it down properly.

-do you have any more felix & florus thoughts? what their dynamic was like (since they don't seem to be friends exactly but also seem to be more than acquaintances)?

Yay! No, I love answering questions! You're always welcome! I guess this goes without saying, but this is obviously all my headcanon. Thanks for the ask! Also this got longer than I expected!

All the mentors (for the most part) are at the minimum some form of school friends or at least friendly acquaintances (Felix-Livia and Coriolanus-Livia being the notable exceptions I can think of off the top of my head. Urban Canville is probably disliked by many of the others as well). I think that there's some affection between all of them from just growing up in the same circles and as these are top performing Academy students, likely seeing each other in the same honors classes and functions.

Working off that baseline, I don't think the Friend family is quite on the same level in terms of influence and wealth as the Ravinstills, Heavensbees, or the more prestigious families of the Academy.

Felix is more comfortable interacting with people whose families are closer to his in status or with people who seem more honest with their intentions/emotions. Florus doesn't really fall into either category in my mind (Florus trying to fit in would not put him in the latter). (I think lowkey a thing I have going on with Felix is that before he comes into his own the idea of who he should be as a Ravinstill gets in the way of him making personal connections, so this continues to be an extension of that in a way.)

When Felix and Florus could have become closer (during the Academy), I think they were preoccupied with their own internal issues which are both kind of similar. They both felt kind of overlooked in their families (in Felix's case, this is a result of miscommunication while in Florus' case, this is more actually the case). They aren't really thinking too hard about that other guy who has similar interests to them. Felix enjoyed history, although I think he fell into the traps of getting swept up into narratives rather than peeling back the curtain of how these historical narratives are formed like Florus would. To be fair, I think Florus fell into that trap when he was younger too. Unfortunately, at worst, they might have felt that their interests were too similar. There might have tried to avoid each other because of that (self-conscious about being replaced).

Still, I think that they probably would have gotten on well if they had interacted more/gave themselves a chance to become closer, and I think Florus would recognize that in the later years. In hindsight, he says that they could have been friends, maybe even good friends, and I think it compounds the guilt he has due to his indirect involvement with Felix's death.

In the end, their small kind of nod of kinship at parties, to me, was meant to amplify that idea that small things cause ripples, like Florus giving the list that eventually led to Myrtilus Carnes killing Felix but in kind of an opposite way? Like Florus' action has a describable impact. Felix's nod means a lot to Florus (some form of comfort. "you are not alone") but it isn't really something you can explain. (it's a small gesture that means a lot personally but to an outsider is just... nothing). Again, the things that history cannot truly capture in my opinion (the personal).

(if you look closely, my brain getting inexplicably scrambled by Felix Ravinstill makes it's way into my characterization of Felix's relationship with others... Sometimes, a near-stranger impacts you a lot, and you just have to deal with that. The amount of times that Felix is important primarily through a love and importance assigned to him by another person... Haha. Wonder what's up with that?)

#anyway i always enjoy chatting in asks!#abyssal stuff #felix ravinstill #florus friend #ask response #tumblingghosts #fic: allegory of the cave #tbosas #the ballad of songbirds and snakes #characterization #<- the struggle of organizational tagging

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catindabag · 2 years ago

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The third set of ✨Academy Photos✨ in my TBOSAS Crack!AU. Enjoy~.😏 Here’s PART 1 & PART 2.

Palmyra, Iphigenia, Juno, and Lysistrata hugging and acting like a bunch of besties after acing their history exam. Moreover, this photo was taken by Diana Ring before all of them (except Palmyra) were quickly rushed to the clinic for accidentally eating expired pudding made by Mrs. Monty. #gotfoodpoisoned #again

Coryo Snow pretending to be sick in order to skip Dr. Gaul’s lecture. The Cabbage Boy decided to go on a secret date with his rich sugar daddy boyfriend Sejanus Plinth who also called in sick to skip class. #SnowPlinth #powercouplegoals

Dennis, Livia, Iphigenia, Florus, Gaius, Persephone, and Juno skipping school to infiltrate Dean Highbottom’s Mansion in order to change their sh*tty grades. #besties #forever #stronger #together

Festus Creed looking dapper before being interviewed by Lucky Flickerman on why dumpster diving became illegal in Panem. #produmpsterdiver #foodisfood #feelingattackedrightnow #iaminnocent

Gaius Breen checking himself out on Highbottom’s office mirror before accidentally breaking it with his foot. #feelinggreat #lookinggood #gotanotherdemerit #sorrynotsorry

Lizzie, Vipsania, and Apollo using the infamous but powerful ✨Ravinstill Nepotism✨ to secretly bring Wovey to school because Hilarius Heavensbee forgot to give the child her Apple Berry Pie. #broketherules #sorrynotsorry #nomoreHungerGames #RavinstillNepoPower

Class Pres. Felix Ravinstill and Clemmie also breaking the rules and using the infamous ✨Ravinstill Nepotism✨ to invite Mizzen out to eat in one of the best seafood restaurants in the Capitol. Afterwards, they stole used Highbottom’s car to ride around the city for fun. #broketherules #Demerits4Life #RavinstillNepoPower #nomoreHungerGames #withMizzen

Arachne Crane calling her parents to sue Festus Creed and Sejanus Plinth for stealing her ✨Sandwich Queen✨ title after surviving the infamous Zoo Fiasco. #suckitlosers #iamtherealsandwishqueen #wearegoingtocourt

Coryo Snow sneaking inside the Zoo again to ask the amazing Lucy Gray to sing ✨Snow On The Beach✨ on his wedding day with Sejanus Plinth. #weneedasinger #ASAP #Snowjanus #weddingplanning

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tbosassocialsandhcs · 3 months ago

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i love love love this blog!! any chances you could do a florus one 👀

AAAA OMG. LOVE YOUU.

always feel free to send in requests, I love doing them, they can be from a specific character to specific situations, please let me know what you want!!

you ask and you shall receive 😌😌

florusfriendd

florusfriendd theatre, friends, photos

liked by ravinstill.felix, pippa.price, and others

Androcles_A you're welcome for being your subject

florusfriendd @ Androcles_A muse, subject, same thing

iphigenia_.moss oh we ate

florusfriendd @ iphigenia_.moss left no crumbs

pippa.price oh I know a veggie plate hates to see you coming in rehearsals

florusfriendd @ pippa.price and I know MY food hates to see YOU coming

pippa.price @ florusfriendd HEY I just eat the cucumbers because you don't like them!

florusfriendd @ pippa.price I LOVE cucumbers! I say I don't so you don't feel bad for eating them

pippa.price @ florusfriendd ARE YOU KIDDING!?!?!? you could've told me that!

livi_poppy your plants! I knew they'd be loving this rain

liked by florusfriendd

iphigenia_.moss is that the film from this weekend?

florusfriendd @ iphigenia_moss 🤭🤭

iphigenia_.moss @ florusfriendd SEND IT TO ME NEEOOWWWW.

#florus friend #florus friend socials #tbosas mentors social media au #tbosas mentors socials au #tbosas mentors #tbosas #the ballad of songbirds and snakes #social media au #requests

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threestargirls · 2 months ago

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palmyra monty headcanons:

• would love radiohead. would fall apart immediately at hearing fake plastic trees no matter the circumstance. would also love brooklyn baby by lana del rey

• owns a parakeet!!!!

• would love lemon-lime flavored carbonated drinks. she would refuse to drink any other flavor of soda… also a sucker for sparkling water

• a generally happy person, though in a modern au, she’d dream of traveling the world. she’d probably still love to travel all over panem in canon.

• her favorite flowers are tulips!

• close with diana ring and florus friend and has this really weird friend-but-kinda-not thing going on with domitia whimsiwhick. very good friends with lysistrata vickers!

• doesn’t remember much of the war, and whenever she asks her parents about it they give extremely vague and generic answers.

• a generally quiet, but very friendly person. just doesn’t usually speak unless spoken to, but she speaks very intelligently and is pretty good with people.

• has an insane amount of old living relatives and a shockingly low amount of younger family, though she does have one cousin that’s a year older than her named cassandra that she’s close with.

• a clean/neat freak!

• strongly dislikes people she finds obnoxious/pretentious, which includes livia cardew, coriolanus snow, vipsania sickle, and festus creed.

• very interested in everything pre-panem and is constantly trying to dig up anything she can about north america and the world.

#liking her already #mwahhahahaha #౨ৎ tbosas #tbosas #tbosas mentors #the hunger games #palmyra monty #౨ৎ palmyra

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the-littlest-kojin · 2 years ago

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How would Flo and or Liht deal with a sick partner?

Florus would take care of them - including taking some days off of work at the bar, if need be. He'd grumble and gripe continually at the lack of Garlean medicines while bringing his partner soup and medicine.

Liht would make sure they had everything they needed but then would immediately get a medical expert - she's incapable of so much as checking for a fever realistically, so she'd outsource as soon as possible.

#ffxiv #ffxiv asks #florus amaga #lihtbryda syngwyn

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antinousletmehit · 4 months ago

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˚₊‧꒰ა Chapter 23 ໒꒱ ‧₊˚

⋆˚࿔ Book 2 𝜗𝜚˚⋆

୨୧┇pairing: Telemachus x reader

୨୧┇I’m gonna get killed for this chapter, character death…

────୨ৎ──── ────୨ৎ──── ─── Telemachus paced furiously through the ruined village, his hands clenched into tight fists, his breathing ragged. The fires still burned around them, the scent of blood thick in the air, but he didn’t care. All he could think about was him. Raphael had been right there. Right there. Wounded. Weak. He could have ended him. He could have killed that bastard and taken her and Adonis back where they belonged.

And yet—he had let him slip away. Again.

“Damn it!” Telemachus roared, driving his fist into the nearest wall. The wood splintered beneath his strength, but the pain did nothing to soothe the rage boiling inside him. His chest heaved, his body trembling with frustration, with regret, with an overwhelming sense of failure. Florus and Acrisios exchanged a look before stepping forward cautiously.

“Telemachus,” Acrisios started, his voice level but firm. “Enough.”

“Enough?!” Telemachus spun on them, his blue eyes wild with fury. “I could have killed him! I could have ended all of this tonight, and now—” His breath shuddered as he ran a hand through his sweat dampened hair. “Now he’s just going to run back to her, to my son—” His voice broke on the last word, rage giving way to something rawer. Florus placed a steady hand on his shoulder, but Telemachus shrugged it off, his body still thrumming with barely restrained anger.

“I should have finished it,” he growled, his jaw tightening. “I should have killed him right then and there.”

Acrisios sighed, crossing his arms. “And what then?” he asked, his tone calm, almost weary. “You think just cutting him down would have magically fixed everything? You think Skiaphos would have just let you walk out with y/n and Adonis without a fight?”

“I don’t care!” Telemachus snapped, stepping toward him. “I would’ve fought them all if I had to! I—” His breath hitched, his body shaking with barely contained frustration. “I’m tired of waiting. Tired of sitting around while that bastard plays house with my family.”

Florus sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose before stepping in front of him again. “Telemachus, I get it. Gods, I get it. But going in blind is going to get you killed, and then what?” He gestured vaguely at the smoldering ruins around them. “You want y/n to trade one captor for another? You think Adonis needs to grow up knowing his father got himself killed because he couldn’t think straight?”

That hit like a punch to the gut. Telemachus exhaled sharply, his shoulders slumping just slightly. He turned away from them, his hands still shaking as he tried to force himself to breathe. “I can’t keep waiting,” he murmured, voice raw. “I won’t.”

Acrisios placed a hand on his shoulder this time, firm and grounding. “Then we plan. Properly this time. No more reckless fights. No more wasted chances.”

Florus nodded. “We’ll get her back, Telemachus. Both of them.”

Telemachus swallowed hard, his jaw tightening as he stared at the distant horizon—the direction Raphael had fled.

Next time, there would be no escape.

——

The Greek camp was alive with the scent of burning wood and the distant sounds of wounded Skiaphian prisoners being corralled together. But none of that mattered to Eurymachus—not when he was admiring his prize.

She was a young Skiaphian woman, terrified but silent, her dark eyes darting between him and the others as she sat stiffly near his tent. Eurymachus smirked, crossing his arms over his chest. Finally. After all the bloodshed, the long campaigns, the endless nights of fighting, he earned this.

Cassander, however, had other thoughts. “Oh, come on,” Cassander groaned, throwing up his hands. “This is bullshit.”

Eurymachus arched a brow, turning to him with an amused smirk. “Excuse me?”

Cassander jabbed a finger at him, then at the woman. “I did the most fighting today. Who was the one holding the front line? Me. Who took down three Skiaphian warriors while you were fumbling around with some half dead old man? Me.” He gestured wildly. “By all rights, I should get her.”

Eurymachus scoffed. “Oh, please. You got lucky. And besides, you already have a bad habit of losing your war prizes, Cassander.” He smirked, jabbing him in the ribs. “Maybe I should hold onto this one for safekeeping.”

Cassander looked deeply, personally offended. “Excuse me?!”

The two of them started bickering, voices rising as they shoved at each other, completely forgetting about the war prize in question.

And then—Druses arrived.

The moment his towering form loomed over them, both Eurymachus and Cassander immediately shut their mouths. Druses crossed his arms, his purple eyes narrowed with deep, exhausted irritation. He let the silence hang for a moment before finally speaking.

“What,” he said slowly, “are you idiots fighting about?”

Cassander and Eurymachus both started talking at once. “She should be mine—”

“No, I deserve her—”

“I did the most killing today, obviously—”

“Oh, shove it—”

Druses sighed through his nose, his expression darkening as he pinched the bridge of his nose. “Gods above, I hate you both.” Then, without another word, he grabbed the war prize by the arm, yanked her to her feet, and started leading her away.

“Wait—what the fuck?” Eurymachus sputtered. “Where are you—?”

Druses shot them both a sharp, withering glare. “You’re grounded from war prizes. Maybe if you two learned how to shut up and act like warriors instead of spoiled children, you’d earn them back.”

Cassander blinked, his mouth opening and closing like a fish before he turned to Eurymachus. “Did—did we just get grounded?”

Eurymachus groaned, dragging a hand down his face. “Un-fucking-believable.”

——

Eurymachus and Cassander were sulking.

It had been hours since Druses unfairly took their war prize, and neither of them were handling it well. They lingered near Druses’ tent like stray dogs, watching as he kept the woman near him—their woman, mind you—as if she was some fragile thing that needed protecting.

“This is bullshit,” Cassander muttered under his breath, arms crossed as he scowled. “We earned her.”

Eurymachus nodded vehemently. “Exactly. Druses didn’t even do anything. He just walked over, took her, and now he’s acting like he’s her fucking guardian or something.”

Cassander scoffed. “We should just take her back.”

Eurymachus grinned. “I like the way you think.”

The two of them strutted toward Druses, who was standing with his back turned, arms crossed as he kept an eye on the war prize. The moment they got close enough, Cassander reached out to grab her wrist— And was promptly kicked straight in the chest.

Cassander let out a wheeze as he was sent flying backward, landing in the dirt with a pathetic grunt. Eurymachus had just enough time to blink before Druses swung around and kicked him too, sending him crashing down right next to Cassander. Druses glared down at them, unimpressed. “I told you two idiots to quit it.”

Eurymachus groaned, rubbing his chest. “Gods, you kick hard.”

Cassander groaned in agreement, still sprawled in the dirt. “I think he cracked a rib.”

Druses rolled his eyes before turning away, clearly thinking the conversation was over. Cassander and Eurymachus exchanged a look. Then—

“Alright,” Eurymachus whispered. “New plan.”

They scrambled up, lunging forward again— Druses elbowed Eurymachus in the face without even looking, sending him straight back down. Cassander managed to get a hand on the woman’s arm before Druses grabbed him by the back of the tunic and threw him like a sack of grain.

The two of them groaned on the ground, again, glaring up at Druses, who merely crossed his arms, looking deeply unimpressed. “You’re both pathetic,” he deadpanned.

Before they could launch another complaint—

A tense, heavy silence fell over the camp.

Eurymachus and Cassander froze. Druses tensed slightly. Even the war prize shifted uncomfortably. They didn’t need to turn around to know who had just arrived. Slowly, they looked over their shoulders—and there stood Telemachus.

And he looked furious.

His jaw was clenched, his blue eyes stormy, his posture rigid as he stalked toward them. His sword was still strapped to his hip, his hands twitching like he was dying to use it. Eurymachus and Cassander immediately straightened up, all traces of their whining gone.

Druses exhaled sharply through his nose, giving them both a look before stepping forward. “Something happen?” he asked, his voice the only one daring to break the silence. Telemachus’ gaze flicked to him briefly before settling back on Eurymachus and Cassander. The two of them stiffened under the weight of it.

“Get your shit together,” Telemachus ordered, his voice low, dangerous. “Now.”

Neither of them hesitated.

“Y-yes, sir,” Eurymachus stammered.

Cassander nodded quickly. “Of course, boss. You got it.”

Druses just sighed, rubbing his temples. “Idiot children,” he muttered.

——

The camp was quiet, save for the crackling of dying fires and the occasional murmur of restless sleep. The scent of blood and smoke from their recent raid still clung to the air, but exhaustion had forced even the most hardened warriors into slumber. Telemachus lay on his side, one hand resting on the hilt of his sword, his breaths deep but never fully relaxed. He didn’t trust the silence. He never did.

And then—

A sharp whistle.

A second later, a flaming arrow slammed into one of the tents, setting it ablaze.

Then another.

And another.

Shouts erupted as men jolted awake, confusion twisting into panic as the fires spread.

“AMBUSH!”

The warning cry barely had time to leave someone’s mouth before Skiaphian warriors surged into the camp, blades gleaming under the firelight. The Greeks scrambled for their weapons, still sluggish with sleep, as the enemy descended upon them like vultures. Telemachus was up in an instant, sword drawn as he narrowly dodged a spear aimed at his chest. He swung, cutting the enemy down, his mind snapping into battle mode.

A few feet away, Cassander was still wrestling his way out of his bedroll when a Skiaphian soldier lunged at him. “Wait, wait, I’m not even awake yet—!” He barely managed to roll aside, grabbing his shield and bashing it into the attacker’s face.

Eurymachus, on the other hand, had simply punched the first guy he saw, still half-asleep. “Who the fuck—” He finally registered what was happening, eyes widening. “Oh. Oh, shit.” He grabbed his sword just in time to block another strike.

Druses, already on his feet, was grinning. He twirled his twin daggers in his hands, purple eyes gleaming under the firelight as he dove into the fray. He cut through the enemy with brutal efficiency, laughing under his breath. “Oh, Enyo’s going to love this.”

Florus had woken up swinging, his movements precise and controlled, but there was a deep-seated frustration in his eyes. “I knew we should’ve set up more defenses,” he muttered, slashing an enemy down.

Acrisios had barely gotten his helmet on before he was forced into a clash, his strikes heavy and merciless. “Where the fuck did they come from?!”

“They must’ve followed us from the last raid,” Telemachus gritted out, driving his sword into another soldier’s gut before turning to scan the battlefield. The camp was in chaos. Tents were burning, men were shouting, the sound of metal clashing filled the night air.

And then—

From the trees, more Skiaphians emerged. Telemachus’ eyes narrowed. They weren’t just here to fight. They were here to finish them. And he’d be damned if he let that happen. “Everyone—hold the line!” he roared, gripping his sword tighter. “We end this now!”

And with that, they charged.The camp was hellfire. Smoke and ash filled the air, mixing with the scent of blood and sweat. The Greeks fought viciously, their initial sluggishness from sleep now fully burned away by the raw instinct to survive. But the Skiaphians weren’t relenting. They pushed harder, their numbers greater than expected, their blades seeking Greek throats, their arrows finding flesh.

And then—

A roar cut through the chaos.

Antinous.

He stormed into the fray like a wrathful beast, his sword already drenched in enemy blood. His long red cloak billowed behind him as he slammed his blade through a Skiaphian’s chest before violently ripping it out. His eyes were wild, teeth bared in a snarl. “Oh, finally!” he growled, cutting another enemy down.

Cassander, still mid-fight, snorted. “Late as always—” He had to duck as Antinous swung his sword a little too close to his head.

Antinous smirked. “Whoops.”

Telemachus was cutting through enemies with precision, his face grim, focused. “We need to push them back!” he called out. “They’re trying to surround us—”

Then a Skiaphian spear whizzed past his face. His eyes snapped to the source—Florus, standing his ground, striking down an enemy, his movements fluid. But then—

It happened too fast.

A blur of motion.

A blade—jagged, brutal—piercing through Florus’ stomach from behind.

For a moment, it was like the battle paused.

Florus stiffened, his breath catching as blood dripped from his lips. His green eyes widened—not in fear, but in stunned realization. His sword slipped from his fingers.

Then—

The Skiaphian soldier twisted the blade. Florus let out a strangled gasp, his body jerking forward. Pisistratus turned just in time to see it happen. “FLORUS!”

But before anyone could react, the enemy ripped the blade out and shoved Florus forward. He collapsed onto his knees. His breath was ragged, uneven. Blood seeped through his armor, staining the ground beneath him.

Antinous, who had just cut down an enemy near him, turned—then froze.

Florus’ body swayed.

Then—he fell.

“No—!” Acrisios dropped his weapon and lunged forward, catching Florus just before he hit the ground. His hands pressed against the wound, desperate, shaking. “Florus, stay with me—stay with us—”

Florus’ lips parted, but no words came out—only a weak, shuddering breath. Telemachus was already hacking his way toward them, eyes dark with fury. Antinous, silent for the first time—just stared. His grip on his sword tightened so hard his knuckles turned white.

Cassander and Eurymachus, who had been bickering just moments ago, stood frozen in place. Druses, blood dripping from his daggers, glanced over—and his expression darkened.

The war still raged around them, but in that moment, none of them cared.

Florus was dying.

And the Skiaphians were about to pay for it.

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